When I embarked on my journey with books many years ago, I knew after some trial and error what I liked and what I didn’t like. If I didn’t like a book, my instinct as a child was to close the book and move on to another one. As a teenager, I was inclined to finish the book but I was vocal about advising people to err on the side of caution. As an adult, I am lucky enough that many publishers send me work in return for an honest review, and to that end, I read every single copy that comes through the mailbox. A publisher will try to match your interests in the hope that you will have an enjoyable experience with this book, but what happens when you don’t? Teenage me would have no qualms about telling all and sundry that I didn’t enjoy the book; adult me wonders…

My weekly newspaper column is often commented on for the honesty of the book review. Simply put, if I enjoy a book I will discuss every aspect of why I enjoyed it. If I did not enjoy a book at all, I will also be frank about what areas I felt contributed to this experience. This all seems a given but what happens when you look beyond the cover and realise that this book is the product of financial strain, marital stress, hopes, aspirations and in so many cases, it is a window opening straight into the private and personal fears of an individual. Collectively, this is all poured onto the pages and the publishers entrusts or perhaps unleashes this piece of work into the hands of book reviewers across the world. The wait for that feedback must be excruciating. Do I read this, find that it lacked something for me and say nothing? I can’t, because the publisher has asked for feedback. Do I lie and praise this book under the premise of building the confidence of the writer during pre-sale momentum? Perhaps, I’m sure others take this approach, but I can’t. This is where I become perhaps a little less than popular.

If I am sent a book, I am always grateful but I will read the book and give a very honest review of my experience. I then share that experience with colleagues and across social media platforms. This encourages exchange of ideas, discussion and generates momentum, especially where a new release is concerned. People talk about the book, they buy the book in some cases to prove a reviewer wrong or to challenge the feedback offered by the reviewer. This opens up a wriggling mass of critique where the writer is discussed based on technique, plot development, characterisation, relatability and general reader experience. Suddenly the reviewer is forgotten and each reader is concerned with their own experience, which they then share with others and so on. This is the role of the book reviewer.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter than someone like me has provided a positive review or a negative review because more and more people are talking about the book and the writer becomes exposed on a much larger platform with wider access to readers who will relate on a personal level to the subject matter. Ultimately the role of the book reviewer as I see it is to read the book and in a very respectful way, to provide honest feedback. Honest feedback to me is providing an overall, comprehensive view of a book and what my experience of that book was. This can be based on many different factors depending on where the book reviewer is from, what their experience of literature is to date and the individual preferences of the reviewer. For example, I tend to enjoy writers who use evocative language with descriptive passages and direct dialogue. I dislike cliffhangers and unresolved endings. If a book doesn’t fit into this category for me, I try not to disregard it and to give each title the same treatment; by adopting this approach I have found myself pleasantly surprised by titles.

W.B Yeats said in ‘Under Ben Bulben’, ‘Irish poets learn your trade’, this level of, dare I say arrogance is not something which I would consider to be a factor for me when reviewing books but perhaps underneath, all book reviewers have a similar thought vein which is what allows us to form such a strong opinion.